Opening one’s home to host those who are in need of shelter is a supreme Jewish value. “Hachnasat Orchim” (lit. bringing guests in) is considered a subcategory of “Gemilut Chasadim” (acts of kindness), which according to Mishna Pe’ah 1:1, neither has a ceiling, i.e., one can never exhaust one’s responsibility to carry out such activities, nor is its reward confined to this world or the Next, but rather the benefits that accrue from this Mitzva constitute a constant, ongoing source of spiritual and material benefit.

Nevertheless, as positive as any religious ideal may be, if in order to effect the value under consideration, other equally important spiritual and ethical concerns end up being overlooked or even consciously violated, the principle (Avot 5:10) “Yatzta Sechara BeHefseida” (its benefit has been negated by its loss) per force comes into play.

Naturally, a meaningful discussion of a topic such as this one can only be conducted if it is devoid of dishonesty and assumes appropriate sensitivity regarding the values of the hosts on the one hand, and the approach towards living together of the guests, on the other. It would be arch hypocrisy for the host family to impose rules and expectations upon their guests if they themselves do not live lives committed to such standards. But once we posit that the host family is committed to the concept that a prerequisite for individuals wishing to be intimate with one another is first to be married to each other, it is not unreasonable for hosts to insist that anyone to whom they are extending hospitality should not only respect but also adhere to, at least for the time that they are sharing the host’s roof, the values and lifestyle that are regularly practiced in this particular home. While guests could maintain that how they conduct their personal, private lives is not anyone else’s business, by accepting hospitality from someone, courtesy and etiquette require that guests strive not to give offense as long as they are benefiting from someone else’s generosity and willingness to share.

Halachic categories that therefore impact upon the manner in which one fulfills an ideal such as “Hachnasat Orchim” will include: “Lifnei Iver Lo Titein Michshol” (before a blind person do not place a stumbling block) and “Mitzva HaBa’ah BeAveira” (a Mitzva that is fulfilled by means of a transgression-- not only may not be viewed as a Mitzva, but becomes an abomination due to the inherent contradiction that the terms Mitzva and Aveira entail). Directly enabling individuals to engage in activities that one himself considers morally and religiously objectionable, not only constitutes a shortcoming on the host’s part, but even categorizes him as an accessory to the transgression which he apparently finds objectionable. While it is possible that the guests have been brought up within, and consequently have been deeply influenced by societal values that are non-judgmental and extremely indulgent when it comes to whatever someone wishes to do, as long as it takes place between consenting adults and no one is hurt as a result, this does not therefore mean that a person acting as a host for others is bound to be similarly accepting and broadminded. And if guests realize that their behavior is deeply objectionable to the hosts, but nevertheless choose to do as they wish regardless of what others may think, such an attitude reflects abject insensitivity and disrespect.

Our interactions with one another throughout our lives entail negotiation. We will not always agree with one another, but mutual respect is the sine qua non for creating a positive social environment. In the public square, pluralism and tolerance should inform all that goes on; in the private sphere, those who are benefiting from others must accept the burden of not giving offense and making the experience a positive one for all involved, particularly from the standpoint of the hosts, who are putting themselves out for the sake of their guests.

Question: What is the Jewish perspective on genetic sex selection of children? Would the latitude (if any) given to genetically select against diseases apply to selecting for desired properties like intelligence or height?

What is the Jewish perspective on genetic sex selection of children? Would the latitude (if any) given to genetically select against diseases apply to selecting for desired properties like intelligence or height?

First, a disclaimer: While questions such as this one can be reflected upon and analyzed philosophically and Halachically, when it comes to actually applying such thinking to an individual, specific case, those who are wrestling with the issue should consult with a Rabbinical expert, familiar with both the Halacha as well as the medical considerations. Each situation is unique and involves its own array of variables and realities. Consequently an authoritative answer that is given in one case may have no bearing on what applies to a different case, it being impossible to generalize with respect to practical situations.

Genetic testing prior to marriage, accompanied by measures to assure that the identities of individuals found to have genetic incompatibility are safeguarded in order to avoid social stigmatization, has gained widespread acceptance, even in the very observant Jewish community.[1] Having to raise children that potentially may suffer from devastating diseases due to the genetic make-up of their parents has been deemed to be destructive both to the family as well as the community in general. Therefore, if such potential conditions can be anticipated by means of testing before two individuals marry, it is proper to do so.

However, once conception takes place, electively aborting a fetus when there is no objective risk to the mother’s health becomes problematic since we would be ending the potential life of another human being already in formation. As long as the fetus is within the mother, it is considered an extension of the mother’s body, and just as any organ threatening the mother’s life can be excised for the good of the already independently functioning person, the fetus could be eliminated under such circumstances as well. Whereas objective threats to life are more widely accepted as legitimate reasons to abort, ideally within the first forty days after conception, attempting to demonstrate that the mother’s health, and even life, is threatened psychologically, i.e., there is a danger of deep depression if not suicide were she to bring such a fetus to term, is more difficult to ascertain in an objective manner, and therefore in some circles this would not constitute sufficient cause to abort a fetus found to have potentially serious physical and/or cognitive difficulties.

The issue of genetic selection arises not only in cases where abortion would be employed, but also where multiple embryos are created outside the body of the mother, and then evaluated for future implantation. While discarding such an embryo would not appear to qualify as abortion per se, moral and ethical dilemmas nevertheless arise, particularly when engaging in judgments as to which embryos to bring to term and which to ignore.

Selecting, and, by implication, eliminating an entirely healthy fetus or embryo merely because it is deemed lacking characteristics desired by parents such as extraordinary intelligence or a certain predetermined height, would be considered at best frivolous, and at worst callous and disrespectful with respect to the miracle of reproduction and bringing new life into the world. Furthermore, making such a decision suggests an insistence upon the exercise of personal control on the part of a parent independent of God’s Will to an inordinate extent. Among other concerns is a potential ever-increasing gap between the children of those individuals who can afford themselves of expensive medical interventions and those unable to do so. Not only must concerns affecting an individual family unit be considered, but also how will overall society be ultimately impacted by making such technology ubiquitously available not only for those who are in desperate need of it, e.g., the infertile, but for everyone.

Question: This question is based on a question posed to the "Ethicist" column in the "New York Times Sunday Magazine."
My colleague at work spends most of his time posting to the website, Reddit. He could be posting information about his boss or work environment that could jeopardize his employment. In any case, I believe he is too immature and ill suited for our profession. Do I have an obligation to tell him that this behavior could hurt his career?

This question is based on a question posed to the "Ethicist" column in the "New York Times Sunday Magazine." My colleague at work spends most of his time posting to the website, Reddit. He could be posting information about his boss or work environment that could jeopardize his employment. In any case, I believe he is too immature and ill suited for our profession. Do I have an obligation to tell him that this behavior could hurt his career?

I would first want to find out whether posting on Reddit is in any way connected to the job that the co-worker is expected to do. If not, then not only is there a concern regarding the content of what he may be posting, but also that he may be guilty of a type of thievery, if he is being paid by the hour (rather than by the project)! If he is not meeting his professional responsibilities during the time that he has contracted to be working, then he is unlawfully accepting compensation for activities that are not part of his job description. By extension, just as the Talmud in Berachot 16a is concerned about a worker taking time off the job to fulfill the Tora Commandment to recite the standard Grace-after-Meals, or all three paragraphs of the Shema, for someone to take time off from his job to unreasonably engage in non-work related activities, he is violating a transgression binding on Jews and non-Jews alike. If that is the case, assuming that the right opportunity can be found whereby a conversation could be conducted in private, calmly and clearly with the best interests of the co-worker in mind, then one should attempt to inform him of what he may not be aware.

Assuming that the co-worker is paid with the understanding that he will complete certain projects, however long or short amounts of time it may take him, then the issue becomes one of the appropriateness of what he is doing even if it is understood that he is permitted to engage in the activity under discussion. There is a difference between knowing for certain that one’s co-worker is posting inappropriate information and opinions about his supervisors and work environment on the one hand, and only suspecting him of such activities on the other. Being judgmental of another without solid evidence that he has done anything wrong constitutes more of a short-coming in the one doing the judging than the one being judged. As Yehoshua ben Perachya states in Avot 1:6, “…Judge every individual by giving him the benefit of the doubt.”

Furthermore, arriving at the opinion that the individual in question is “ill-suited” for the profession in which he is currently employed, should have no bearing on how one should relate to him, unless the person harboring such opinions is either the co-worker’s supervisor, or has been directly asked for an evaluation of his colleague. Then considerations of the extent to which such an opinion has been formed due to personal biases or objective standards will have to be evaluated. It might be advisable to discuss the situation with a dispassionate third party, in the spirit of (Ibid.) “…Make for yourself a teacher”.

Finally, if a person decides that he wishes to mentor a younger colleague and give him advice in order that he is enabled to do his job better and retain his position, that would be considered admirable. However, such mentorship should be conducted in a positive, generous spirit, rather than from a perspective of negativity, critique and dismissiveness.

Question: I'm a single male Jew, 35 years old, well established in my career. I am now at the point where I am considering dating for marriage. I know intermarrying is wrong. However, I am terrified of dating a Jewish girl for fear her family would inevitably discover my entire family is dead, and that I would be by definition be a poor choice for suitor into any good family. All grandparents are dead. My father died of old age, my mother and sister committed suicide (presumably due to abuse by father). I've had my share of abuse by father as well, which has affected me.
I've been nonobservant and have not gone to synagogue for the entire past decade just to avoid being reminded of the hurt.
I've engaged in a lot of therapy, which has helped me to hear, an that is why I am even considering dating at all.
Do I just throw up my hands, tell myself I am not fit to marry, and just live for work? Or would the other side be at all understanding of my background and situation?
What should I do and how can I balance the mitzvot to marry and have a family, against my situation which makes me question if I can be a decent spouse and parent and fulfill the obligations to a family?

Obviously, you have been through a great deal, and your family background is giving you significant pause in terms of wondering what sort of spouse and parent you might ultimately be. It seems to me that not only Jewish families may be taken aback by your background; any parent who is concerned with the ultimate happiness of their child will view your personal and family history as reason for being extremely cautious.

However, Jewish tradition assumes that any individual can rise above his past and whatever has beset his relatives. As R. Chanina states in Berachot 33b, “All is determined by Heaven except for one’s moral/sprititual/ethical attitudes.” When it comes to the type of person that we are, we have freedom to define ourselves, despite our backgrounds and predilections. This of course assumes a high degree of reflection, self-analysis, knowing our weaknesses in order to try to overcome them, being open to constructive criticism, and realizing that we are all “works in progress” as long as we are living and breathing. The fact that you have already engaged in therapy and that it has led to self-understanding and awareness should stand you in good stead as you face the future.

As you embark on trying to find someone who will be a true life partner, in my view, it is extremely important to be honest about your history and experiences in order that the individual be aware of what she might be in for. If after discussing where you have come from and where you would like to go, and spending significant time together in order to determine whether personal idiosyncrasies and style can be at least tolerated and hopefully even loved and embraced, both of you will be in a position to make choices that will affect your respective long-range futures.

Finally, you mention that you have been alienated from Jewish observance for a lengthy period of time. I would suggest that if you become part of a thoughtful, warm, embracing Jewish community where observance is taken seriously, the structure that engaging in a life of Mitzva fulfillment and relating to God will contribute significantly to your ability to strive to become an ever-better human being and spouse to your significant other.

According to Orthodox Jewish tradition, in addition to the possibility that one becomes a “naturalized Jew” by means of conversion to Judaism, the religion one is born into is determined by the religious status of one’s mother, religious lineage being defined as matrilineal. The biblical basis for this assumption is Deuteronomy 7:3-4 :

Neither shalt thou make marriages with them (the non-Jewish nations that will be encountered when the Jewish people enter the land of Israel): thy daughter thou shalt not give unto his son, nor his daughter shalt thou take unto thy son. For he (the non-Jewish father) will turn away thy son from following Me, that they may serve other gods…

The Oral Tradition in Tractate Kiddushin 68b interprets the implication of these verses:

How do we know that her children bears her (religious) status? — R. Yochanan said on the authority of R. Shimeon b. Yochai, Because Scripture saith, “For he will turn away thy son from following me”:thy son byan Israelite woman is called thy son, but thy son by a non-Jewish woman is not called thy son.Ravina said: This proves that thy daughter's son by a non-Jewish man is called thy son.

The subtle inference drawn by the Talmud from the biblical verses is that since despite the fact that Deuteronomy 7:3 mentions both possibilities, i.e., a Jewish man marrying a non-Jewish woman, as well as a Jewish woman marrying a non-Jewish man, the specific fear delineated in 7:4 regards exclusively concerns itself with what will happen to a son who will come under the influence of a non-Jewish father. Consequently, when the mother is Jewish, the child is “your son”, but, by implication, not when the mother is not Jewish. The Codes accept this definition, as in Shulchan Aruch, Even HaEzer 4:5.

Consequently, with respect to the specific question whether the child of a Jewish mother is considered Jewish, the answer according to Orthodoxy is yes. As to whether that individual’s children are Jewish or not, that would then depend upon the individual’s gender. If the person is a woman, then just as she is Jewish, her children are similarly Jewish. On the other hand, if we are speaking about a man, then it would depend upon with whom, i.e., a Jewish or non-Jewish woman, he has children.

However, even if an individual is “technically” Jewish by virtue of his biological origins, whether or not he views himself as Jewish, let alone if he lives in accordance with the dictates of a Jewish lifestyle, is certainly within his own purview. Ideally, being Jewish is not just a matter of biology and/or conversion, but also includes the means by which an individual chooses to live his or her life.

Question: I converted to Judaism with a Reform rabbi, and my husband is not Jewish. We have two children, a daughter and a son, whom we have raised Jewish; they each had a bar/bat mitzvah, and my son attends a Jewish high school. As they begin to date, would there be any reason I or they should inform the other parents that I converted?

Members of different denominations in Judaism will not all view the legitimacy of your conversion in the same manner. Consequently, when your children eventually choose to have relationships with Jews that could lead to marriage, depending upon who the other person is and the family that s/he comes from, it is possible that strong objections will be raised to such a marriage either by the person with whom your child has become involved, or the members of that person’s family. It would be potentially heartbreaking for both you and your child if such objections would result in either the necessity to redefine his/her religious status or the abandonment of the relationship altogether. At the very least, I think that it is a parental responsibility to assure that when your children begin to date, they are alerted to such possibilities so that they can be forewarned and take such potential dynamics into consideration with respect to the development of their future serious dating relationships.

Question: There seems to be a tension between the Jewish mitzvah (commandment) concerning marriage (and subsequently being fruitful), and the concept of love (specifically romantic love, as defined in terms of western thought and literature). In times and places where arranged marriages are/were the norm, this was not a concern, but in modern day America, it seems to be a live issue. Is it the view of Judaism that it is more important to marry to fulfill the commandment - even if one does not love that mate, or should one not marry without love even though the mitzvah seems clear that it is obligatory? What does Judaism say, not only halachically (in Jewish law), but ethically and in terms of Jewish values?

In the classical listings of the 613 Commandments Given by God to mankind, the positive Divine Directive to “be fruitful and multiply”, based upon Genesis 1:28, usually heads the list. The Commandment is expanded upon in the next biblical chapter (2:24) “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife, and they shall be one flesh.” While the medieval French commentator RaShI interprets the final phrase of this second verse as referring to the birth of a child who will be a combination of the physical and personality attributes of the parents, the Italian commentator Sephorno, advances a different understanding. “They will then intend in all of their activities to achieve the wholeness that was intended by the Creation of man, as if both (husband and wife) are a single entity.” Sephorno suggests that the phrase describes the marriage unit whereby two individuals are not only physically intimate, but they assume a complementary existence, each individual inspiring and broadening the other, banishing the other’s loneliness, offering emotional and material support, inspiring the other to fulfill his/her potential by always being there for him/her, in effect loving the other. Furthermore, the reason why Rabbi Akiva proclaimed that the Song of Songs is the holiest book of the bible (Mishna Yadaim 3:5) was because he understood the text as a prolonged metaphor, with the loving relationship between the two protagonists representing the love that God and Israel have for one another. In effect, the concept of love between God and His People becomes a paradigm for the love that ought to exist between human lovers, and vice versa. In a similar vein, Maimonides uses a specific analogue to describe how far one must go in order to fulfill the Commandment to love God with all one’s heart, soul and might (Devarim 6:5):

(Mishneh Tora, Laws of Repentance, 10:3)

…That a person should love God with a very great and exceeding love until his soul is bound up in the love of God. Thus, he will always be obsessed with this love as if he is lovesick.[A lovesick person's] thoughts are never diverted from the love of that woman. He is always obsessed with her; when he sits down, when he gets up, when he eats and drinks. With an even greater [love], the love for God should be [implanted] in the hearts of those who love Him and are obsessed with Him at all times...

The concept of romantic love in Jewish tradition is therefore not only to be found within the context of human relations, but also between God and man. Yet it cannot be said to be a zero-sum game in the sense that either one loves totally and unconditionally, or one does not and can never love another person and/or God. Love is an emotion that hopefully will grow and evolve, will take on different manifestations, will affect those striving for it and possessing it in different ways at different times over the course of their entire lives. To love another human being and to love God (as opposed to focusing upon love of oneself) is a quality to which one ought to aspire and which may take a lifetime to develop, nurture and appreciate.

In my view, what some consider the apparent disconnect between love as described in Western thought, particularly the media, on the one hand, and Jewish tradition on the other, is due to over-romanticizing and even unrealistically sensationalizing a sensibility that is natural, normal and quite common. I think that it is prejudicial to assume that arranged marriages cannot be loving, and I also believe that those who wish to look for a spouse on their own can successfully find a loving partner, provided they have realistic expectations and are loving individuals themselves, prepared and yearning to love another rather than merely wanting to be loved by someone other than themselves.

Question: Are Jews outside Israel seen as part of the galut/exile, Diaspora, or a separate Peoplehood? In other words, how much emphasis is placed on Israel in defining Jews living outside it? Do you see the non-Israeli Jews and Israel as contributing to one another, independent from one another, or is Israel the center or focus?

Are Jews outside Israel seen as part of the Galut/Exile, Diaspora, or a separate Peoplehood? In other words, how much emphasis is placed on Israel in defining Jews living outside it? Do you see the non-Israeli Jews and Israel as contributing to one another, independent from one another, or is Israel the center or focus?

Jews who are sensitive to the Bible, Rabbinic thought and traditional liturgy cannot help but recognize that those who live outside of Israel, no matter how secure, comfortable and culturally Jewish they may be, are residents of the “Diaspora”, i.e., an area that is clearly in contradistinction to the objectively defined Jewish homeland.

From the biblical perspective, the destiny of the Jewish people is synonymous with their living in the land that God has Given them, the land of Israel. This was the goal of the Exodus from Egypt, and it is reiterated countless times throughout TaNaCh (the twenty-four books of the Jewish biblical canon). Exile from the land of Israel is threatened at various junctures, particularly in the book of Devarim, should the Jews prove unworthy of God’s Concern by ignoring His Commandments. Yet even when they are first threatened with becoming stateless, and then when the threat turns into a reality, exile is always presented as a relatively temporary condition that can be reversed via repentance and a return to God’s Ways.

Rabbinic literature draws many distinctions between the Israeli and Diaspora communities in terms of the number of days of Yom Tov to be observed; the status of certain Commandments deemed “dependent upon the land of Israel”, e.g., tithes, pilgrimages on Festivals, and many agricultural rules and regulations; and the center of authority for determining legal status like conferring ordination and adjudicating certain types of legal disputes. The Talmud also discusses how marriages can be adversely affected when one party wishes to live in Israel while the other does not; whether or not returning to live in the land of Israel must be preceded by some Divine Indicator; and can “holiness of place” reside anywhere outside of the land.

Prayerbook liturgy, at least originally,[1] contains differences regarding unique insertions in the prayers for those living inside and outside of Israel; numerous declarations of our earnest desire to return to live in the land and worship in the rebuilt Temple; and variations in blessings of thanksgiving for foods and drinks grown inside or outside the land of Israel.

Consequently, from a traditional religious as opposed to merely cultural perspective, the distinction between Israel and the Diaspora remains definitive, with Israel being considered the eternal epicenter of Jewish spiritual existence.

Nevertheless, that certainly does not mean that the distinct communities in Israel and the rest of the world, as long as identifying-Jews remain outside of the Jewish homeland, should not feel responsible for one another and capable of enriching and being enriched by one another. Biological and cultural hybrid vigor contributes to the survival of the Jewish people, and special aspects of Jewish life can develop in all sorts of environments. A symbiosis by which Jews all over the world interact with one another, assist each other’s communities to achieve mutual goals, defend one another’s spiritual, physical and financial well-being, and feel at one with all Jews regardless of where they happen to presently be living is certainly a Jewish value reflected in the Rabbinic comment, (Shavuot 39a) “Kol Yisrael Areivim Zeh BaZeh” (all of Israel serve as guarantors for /are intertwined with each other).

[1] Since different Jewish denominations have evolved particularly since the Emancipation, and each has self-consciously developed their own prayer liturgy, marked differences can be observed among the various Siddurim in terms of the importance of and expressions of longing to return to live in the land of Israel.

What is the connection between the Land of Israel, the natural cycle, and Jewish practice? Especially for Jews living outside the land of Israel, is this still important?

Classical sources in both the Written and Oral Traditions unambiguously state that the ideal place for Jews to reside is the land of Israel. If one lives elsewhere, he is considered to be in the Diaspora, essentially in exile. The holiness of the land of Israel, in contrast to all other lands, is considered inviolate and eternal. The Jewish concept of holiness is a function of closeness to God, with HaShem constituting the archetype of holiness. Consequently, the more holy the land upon which one lives, the closer to God he finds himself. While the absence of the Jerusalem Temple has rendered moot a great many of the Tora’s Commandments, there is a significant number of Mitzvot that can only be performed in the land of Israel, independent of the Temple. If a Jew wishes to maximize his opportunities to fulfill such Mitzvot—it is assumed that the more Mitzvot one positions oneself to perform, the more in line such an individual is with God’s Will and the lifestyle that the Tora prescribes—living in the land of Israel must be at the very least a powerful aspiration, e.g., “LeShana HaBa’a BeYerushalayim” (Next year in Jerusalem) that is proclaimed every six months at the Pesach Seder and then at the conclusion of Yom HaKippurim, if not an actual goal to be realized as soon as possible.

Although Jews have lived in the Diaspora for millennia, that does not change the focal point that the land of Israel provides for Jewish identity as well as religious practice. Hebrew, the most Jewish of all languages, ancient and modern, is the official language of the State of Israel. The fact that Jews all over the world orient themselves during prayer towards the Temple Mount provides a stark demonstration of where the single Jewish center is located. The daily Jewish liturgy contains numerous references to the eventual ingathering of the exiles, the restoration of a judicial system in accordance with Jewish law and the rebuilding of the Temple. The Jewish festivals follow the pattern of harvests that take place in Israel—Pesach marks the early barley harvest, Shavuot the later wheat harvest, and Sukkot the fall harvest—regardless of the climatic conditions that someone may be experiencing during those times anywhere else in the world. Prayers for Dew in the spring and Rain in the fall as well as additions and/or changes to the Silent Devotion also reflect Israel’s patterns of rainfall over the course of the year. The period of three weeks, beginning with the 17th of Tammuz and culminating with Tisha B’Av are the most mournful and depressing period of the entire Jewish year, marking the days that led up to the eventual destructions of the two Jerusalem Temples. Other fast days during the year, i.e., the 3rd of Tishrei and the 10th of Tevet also serve as reminders of the Temple sieges and devastations. Even commemorations and celebrations such as Yom HaZikaron, Yom HaAtzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim are determined by the Israeli Chief Rabbinate, who consistently look to avoid creating situations where people might be led to drive on Shabbat, e.g., if the 5th of Iyar occurs on a Friday, the celebration might be postponed to the following Sunday. Despite the fact that these days are not national holidays in the Diaspora, communities outside of Israel are usually careful to follow the lead of Israel for determining on which days the celebrations should take place.

These many commemorations and symbols serve as constant reminders of the centrality of the land of Israel, its climate and natural cycles, to Jews all over the world, whether or not they currently reside in Israel proper.

The first thing that has to be said with regard to this question is that the manner in which God Judges and/or Evaluates our actions is difficult to determine with any certainty. We can cite Rabbinic sources that deal with such questions, always with the caveat that God’s Actions are by definition ultimately inscrutable from the point of view of finite man. Perhaps the most pithy statement to this effect is Exodus 33:18-9, where the verb “to see” is interpreted to mean “to understand.” In a broader literary context, the book of Job is entirely devoted to this question, with the final section, beginning with chapt. 38, built upon the premise that man cannot comprehend God and the reasons for His Actions, since he does not possess God’s Perspective or Vantage Point.

With regard to the specific question of Divine Judgment regarding human thoughts and fantasies, the Talmudic principle, “Ones Rachmana Patrai” (one who is under duress, is not held accountable by the Divine)—e.g., Bava Kamma 28b, interpreting Deuteronomy 22:26—could be applied to thoughts and fantasies that pop into one’s mind or dreams that are uninvited and undesired. Not only is it logical to believe that one is not Judged for such ruminations, the popular Shabbat Hymn, “Mah Yedidut Menuchatech” (“How Beloved is Your Rest”) contains the line, “Chafatzecha Asurim VeGam LaCheshov Cheshbonot; Hirhurim Mutarim…” (Your business interests are forbidden, considering money matters; But thinking is permitted...) In other words, while even speaking about issues such as financial concerns, that run afoul of the letter and spirit of Shabbat is not permitted, one’s thoughts are not so easily controlled and regulated, and it would be unfair to hold the thinker accountable in such a circumstance.

However, not all thoughts are spontaneously generated and therefore free of human involvement. Deliberately exposing oneself to certain sights, language, music, literature, etc. can directly precipitate improper thoughts and fantasies, leading to religious remonstrations against such behavior. This line of reasoning underlies the rules of personal modesty, the warnings against the use of obscene language and exposure to inappropriate cultural experiences, the abominations of pornography, and the like.

A final area of personal thought that is subject to Divine Scrutiny concerns traditional belief. Maimonides in Mishneh Tora, The Laws of Idolatry 2:4, based upon Deuteronomy 11:16, states that mere heretical thoughts and speculations with respect to matters such as idolatry, the nature of God and the Divine origin of the Tora, even if one does not act upon such thoughts, already are defined as major transgressions. Since the means of fulfilling these particular Commandments is via interior belief rather than any specific course of action, the converses of these beliefs constitute the violations of the Commandments in question.

In summary, the vast majority of thoughts and fantasies, assuming that they have not been premeditatedly initiated on the part of the individual are deemed non-culpable; yet there are some thoughts that Jewish law demands one must at least attempt to actively resist, since they lie at the heart of the religious enterprise.

Question: An article (in the Science & Health section of the Feb. 14, 2012 edition of the New York Times) stated that a senior residence facility passed an edict that residents in the assisted living and nursing facility can not eat in the same dining room as the independent living residents. (I recommend you read the article). Some couples and friends can no longer dine together. Various reasons were cited for the decision, including space, mobility, safety and concern about depressing the independent residents. This is screaming out to me as a great discussion topic in Jewish values. I can point to the values of caring for the sick and disabled, treating your neighbor as you would like to be treated, honoring the elderly, etc., but I am looking for specific sources and quotes to use as a teaching lesson. Thanks.

The New York Times article, “The New Old Age: Tables Reserved for Only the Fittest”, (http://newoldage.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/02/09/tables-reserved-for-the-healthiest/) describes a phenomenon that is taking place in a number of senior citizen facilities across the country. These settings have been purposefully designed to provide structure and care on a graduated basis so that as the individual becomes increasingly infirm, he does not have to completely relocate, but rather can move from section to section of the facility, from independent living, to assisted living to nursing care, so that he will have available the appropriate level of supervision and assistance that he requires at that point in his life. An attractive feature of these senior communities is their restaurants and dining halls which accommodate not only residents but also guests, friends and family members. While it appears that almost all of the facilities originally allowed residents who lived independently as well as those in assisted-living (nursing patients, because of their intensive needs have not been included) to eat together, several of the institutions of late have adopted policies that deliberately separate these groups from one another.

One critical variable that has to be explored is the degree to which such a policy is necessary for the health and safety—dimensions of Pikuach Nefesh (lit. oversight of life—Leviticus 18:5)—of particular residents, i.e., those in need of greater support than those who require less. If by eating together it will be impossible to regulate people’s diets, accommodate their special equipment and monitor their taking necessary medicines, then the social benefits of being part of a larger group and maintaining one’s sense of personal dignity—a function of Kavod HaBriyot (lit. honor of people—Avot 4:1; Berachot 19b)—are offset by the real dangers to individual life to which those in need of assistance are susceptible.

However, it would not appear that an either/or choice necessarily has to be made. Such a perspective entails a cost/benefit calculus, i.e., if extra staff and accommodations would be required in order to allow for a greater range of individuals to spend quality time with one another, at what point, if ever, does the cost become counter-productive? Does a dimension of Bal Tashchit (the obligation not to be wasteful—Devarim 20:19-20) preclude incurring costs beyond a certain point monetarily, even if a valuable social and psychological dimension would have to be sacrificed? Furthermore, if certain residents would be able to afford the extra personnel that would allow them more social flexibility, would it be ethical to allow them to “buy” such an opportunity, in the face of those who did not possess the wherewithal to do so? An additional consideration would be the recognition that one’s immune system is affected positively or negatively by your state of mind; feeling depressed at being excluded from the larger group might actually be counter-indicated in the interests of healing the sick (Exodus 21:19; Bava Kamma 85a).

Another constructive suggestion would provide for individual residents in assisted-living to be regularly evaluated with respect to their ability to participate in larger group activities such as eating together in the facility’s restaurants and dining halls. This would create a system similar to where at least three individuals would be placed in charge of Tzedaka distribution in order to try to make the process as fair as possible and allow for deliberation regarding individual cases (Pe’ah 8:7). While such determinations might prove disturbing to those who will be subject to them, perhaps such risks and possible short-term disruptions are worth the long-term achievement of more equitable treatment and advancing personal self-esteem, a sense of possessing Tzelem Elokim (the quality of having been created in the Image of God—Genesis 1:26-7)).

While the discussion to this point considers the sensibilities of those who will suffer exclusion from their desired setting and relegation to one that is less pleasant and amenable, there is also the concern of the residents who, at least for the time being, are living independently. Unless these individuals are spiritual and even traditional in their religious observances to the point where one could invoke the need to be considerate of others (Proverbs 3:4) , putting oneself in their shoes (Avot 2:4), realizing that we are all responsible for one another (Sanhedrin 27b) as well as attempting to manifest Hillel’s rule, “What is hateful to you, do not do to others” (Shabbat 31a), it will be difficult to insist that they demonstrate sensitivity towards their less-fortunate co-residents. Perhaps to counter this reality, the healthier residents should also be given the choice to either sit with the more infirm residents, or opt not to. In this manner the settings can be sufficiently personalized to satisfy a larger constituency of the residents. But unfortunately, it is clear that one “can’t keep all the people happy all the time.”

While it could be maintained that if the book of Esther is read on Purim, Maccabees should be the biblical reading on Chanuka, a simple technical explanation for the book’s omission would focus on its having been excluded from the Jewish canon. It would hardly make sense to those in charge of developing Jewish ritual to make central to the observance of a particular holiday a book that was rejected from inclusion in TaNaCh. Various hypotheses are advanced by scholars concerning why, although included in the biblical canon of Christian denominations, Maccabees, like other books contained in the Apocrypha, was excluded by the Jewish canonizers. A conjecture that parallels the Talmud’s extremely minimal treatment of Chanuka is based upon the apparent Rabbinic criticism of the family of Matityahu, who despite being Kohanim, functioned as rulers over the Jewish people, a role reserved for the members of the tribe of Yehuda, rather than those from Levi from whom the Priests descended. Rabbinic animus for this dynasty is textually reflected in three areas, according to the scholar Shmuel Safrai, in his essay, “ChaZaL VeChag HaChanuka”: (http://www.daat.ac.il/daat/kitveyet/mahanaim/hasal.htm )

a) the books of Maccabees, even I Maccabees, were preserved in Greek rather than Hebrew,

b) neither is there a Masechet dedicated to the laws of Chanuka nor do they appear directly in any part of the Mishna; even in the Gemora, extremely little discussion of Chanuka takes place,

and

c) when on Shabbat 21b the question “What is Chanuka?” is posed, the Talmud’s answer focusses upon the discovery of a single cruse of uncontaminated oil that miraculously provided sufficient fuel for the Menora to remain lit for eight days, rather than the stirring and courageous military victory by the Chashmonaim.

Since the book of Maccabees presents the events from the perspective of the heroism and dedication of the Chashmanaim, it stands to reason that those who found fault with some aspects of the family’s conduct, particularly following the victorious campaign against the Syrian-Greeks, would look to lower their profile during the Chanuka celebration.

The question appears to be extremely amorphous and requires definition and clarification in order that one can address it substantively. What constitutes “food wastage”? And what is the interplay between Shabbat meal preparation and “food wastage”?

Looking at “food wastage” in its most literal sense, i.e., destroying it for the sake of being destructive, a central concept in Jewish tradition is referred to as “Bal Tashchit” (do not destroy). It is based upon Deuteronomy 20:19-20 where the Tora states that fruit trees should not be destroyed if one’s need for wood can be satisfied by obtaining wood from less productive sources, such as non-fruit producing trees. By extension (RaMBaM, Mishneh Tora, Hilchot Melachim 6:10) other categories of waste and destruction are prohibited based upon logical extrapolation from the source in Deuteronomy, including “one who destroys food for the sake of engaging in vandalism/destruction”. A subcategory of “Bal Tashchit” that applies specifically to food is known as “Bizui Ochlim” (the disparagement of food) that raises concerns with respect to how food is generally handled, aside from its consumption (Aruch HaShulcha, Orech Chayim 171:1). Consequently, to discard extra food instead of finding productive ways to use it, e.g., leftovers for future meals, contributions to food banks, looking for needy individuals who could benefit from it, share it with friends and neighbors, etc., would be duly prohibited, regardless of whether it was prepared for Shabbat or not. However, if an individual prepares food with the reasonable intention and expectation that his family and guests will consume all of it, and during the course of the meal food is handled respectfully and carefully, even if in the end some relatively insignificant amount is discarded, this would hardly constitute a violation of “Bal Tashchit.”

Approaching the issue more subtly, some might associate “food wastage” with preparing more food than those eating “need” in terms of nutrition and satiation. Furthermore, it could be maintained that food that is not healthy is “wasted” when served to people who would do better without consuming such substances both in a qualitative and quantitative sense. But it must be emphasized that with respect to Shabbat meals, Jewish tradition (Shulchan Aruch, Orech Chayim 250:2) calls upon the observant individual to make his Shabbat meals distinctive and therefore readily identifiable in terms of food and drink in comparison to the type and number of courses that typify how he eats during the week. Naturally there is never an excuse to conduct oneself like a drunkard and/or a glutton. Nevertheless, in order to fulfill the dimension of Shabbat called “Oneg Shabbat” (enjoyment of Shabbat), it is expected that one would acquire, prepare and consume more and better food than he does ordinarily. But “more” is a relative term, and will vary from family to family dependent upon what the community standards are as well as the financial situation of the individual in question. As in so many areas of Jewish law and life, balance, RaMBaM’s “Shevil HaZahav (golden path/mean) (Hilchot De’ot 2:2) is the true goal, and this applies as much to food consumption as other things.

The area of Jewish life that seems to me to be most problematic in terms of “Bal Tashchit” and “Bizui Ochlim” is when festive meals, including on Shabbat, are catered for large numbers of people. Inevitably extremely large amounts of food are allowed to go to waste. Perhaps, as in other contexts, people when they are in a private setting, are more careful regarding how they relate to food, i.e., how much do they take, how much of what they took is actually eaten, what happens to the extra food at the end of the event, etc. The anonymity that accompanies large groups of people appears to desensitize individuals regarding their responsibilities in all sorts of areas, including how they treat food, and this is an area that could benefit from some creative thinking in order to try to at least lessen if not eliminate the amounts of waste and disrespectful behavior that are generally involved.

When an individual voluntarily decides to contribute his time and/or resources to any communal organization, including a synagogue, it is appropriate for his donation to be acknowledged in some manner by the recipient(s). By definition, someone using his personal resources not for his direct benefit, but rather for the advancement of his community or religious beliefs, has engaged in a self-sacrificial, altruistic act that is praiseworthy. Not only will acknowledging such an act encourage the individual to continue to make similar contributions, but it will also hopefully inspire others to follow his example.

While some donors may prefer to remain anonymous, and such a desire should certainly be respected since humility is a key Jewish value, those who welcome acknowledgement cannot be faulted on the basis of Jewish tradition or historical practice. Hundreds of plaques have been uncovered in excavations of ancient synagogues dating back through the centuries, and Halachic responsa have been written justifying the creation of such plaques. Yet, despite such traditions, the overall atmosphere that is created when a communal institution, whose constituency represents a wide-range of economic situations, obviously singles out for recognition certain members as opposed to others based exclusively upon financial contributions, could negatively impact the organization’s culture of community and shared obligation. A fine line ought to be drawn which on the one hand offers recognition to those who desire and deserve it, yet does so in a subtle enough fashion which is not demoralizing to those who are objectively not in a position to donate on similar levels. An additional consideration would goad the institution to significantly acknowledge those who have contributed mightily in terms of time and energy, so that the impression is not conveyed that financial support is the only important way in which the organization’s interests can be advanced.

Naturally, a significant variable which directly affects the specific manner in which a donor is acknowledged is the magnitude of the gift. Organizations such as synagogues, that are completely funded and maintained by the contributions and efforts of members and supporters, should feel a moral and religious responsibility (under the rubric of “Hakarat Hatov”) to acknowledge donations of various sizes in ways that appropriately correspond to what has been given. The determination of whether such recognition should be exclusively verbal or in the form of a note or letter, as opposed to some sort of permanent commemoration, e.g., an inscription or even the naming of a room or building, would ultimately depend upon each individual situation, the determination being arrived at by a consensus of the organization’s appointed leadership.

Question: Naama Shafir, the Orthodox woman’s basketball superstar, says, “If you have a dream, it’s not a question of ‘either-or.’ You can do both. You can be religious and fulfill your dreams.” What is the Jewish view on this? Is it true that a person can always fulfill his/her dream and be in line with Torah values?

While the sentiment expressed by Ms. Shafir is certainly inspiring, there are at least three terms in her quote andthe continuation of the question that require “unpacking” in order to be able to properly evaluate the veracity of what is being proposed. 1) Are any and all personal “dreams” attainable by a “religious” person? 2) Is there a difference between “Torah values” and “Torah observance”?

It is possible that a deeply religious person will only allow him/herself to entertain dreams that are appropriate for and complimentary to a wide-reaching religious lifestyle and outlook. R. Gamliel states in the Ethics of the Fathers (2:4): “Make His Will like your will in order that He will Make your will like His Will.” In my view, the issue raised by this question is a reflection of a “chicken-and-egg” situation, i.e., where do one’s priorities lie—with fulfilling personal ambitions and goals or engaging in devoted and consistent worship of the Divine. Should a person try to make religion conform to his/her aspirations, or are the goals to be realized clearly defined from the start by a religious outlook and lifestyle? Furthermore, if the standard by which dreams are measured is “Torah values”, suggesting some general, amorphous themes that can be derived from Jewish tradition and primary sources, accommodations become much easier thanif strict and comprehensive adherence to Jewish law and observance is the given. Are “Torah values” sufficient for leading a religious life, or is something more required?

In the specific case of an athlete, particularly a professional, even if in certain contexts the individual is able to adhere to the letter of the law, it is unclear if the law’s spirit can also be maintained. How exquisitely gifted must one be in order to be able to constantly dictate when and where one practices and plays, if your teammates are not afforded such flexibility? Were the person to be relegated to minor leagues or a minor role on the team in a major league in order that his religious requirements be met, would this constitute a true fulfillment of the “dream”? Is earning wages for Shabbat and Yom Tov competition, assuming that no Melachot are violated, a religious thing to do?

Therefore, it seems to me, that while today, so many more doors have been opened for Orthodox Jews in terms of education, professions, political activity and places of residence, to exaggerate available options to the point where it is claimed that any and all dreams can be completely melded into an authentic Jewish traditional lifestyle, is at the very least premature, if not simply incorrect.

Is there validity to the debate within small pockets of the Jewish world to fold Yom Hashoah into another remembrance day such as Tisha B'Av or the 10th of Tevet?

While Yom HaShoa has become an emotionally powerful day recalling the horrible events of the Holocaust, whether or not this is the ideal manner in which to annually commemorate these events is a bone of contention among some groups. The reasons are ritualistic as well as historiographical.

On the one hand, Yom HaShoa takes place during the month of Nissan. Traditionally, because of the occurrence of the festival of Passover during the month of Nissan, acts of mourning are curtailed (see Shulchan Aruch, Orech Chayim 429:2). Consequently, among the indications of Nissan’s association with rejoicing rather than sadness, the Tachanun prayer is omitted, optional fasts are prohibited and eulogies at funerals are held to a minimum. Instituting a day during which the atrocities that were perpetrated against the Jewish people are recalled would appear to not be in the spirit of the month according to traditional Jewish sources..

Furthermore, the choice of the 27th of Nissan by the Israeli Kenesset for Holocaust Remembrance Day was the result of a political compromise. There was strong sentiment among secular Israelis that the Shoa should be commemorated on April 19th which marks the anniversary of the beginning of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising. However, from the perspective of the Jewish calendar the beginning of the insurrection also coincided with the 15th of Nissan, the first day of the Passover festival. So by delaying the event to the 27th of Nissan, Pesach is over by then and the date is only a week before Yom HaAtzmaut, creating a linkage between the Holocaust and the establishment of the State of Israel, a connection that some believe constitutes a true cause-and-effect relationship. Such premises, i.e., the aspect of the Shoa that we should remember is the armed heroic resistance to oppression and persecution, and that the Holocaust takes on meaning only in light of the establishment of the Jewish State, are controversial, to say the least.

The position that either Tisha B’Av or the Tenth of Tevet should serve as Yom HaShoa, is based upon not only objecting to disrupting the pristine happiness of Nissan, and taking issue with the ideological considerations listed above, but also whether the Holocaust should be seen as a unique, stand-alone event, or is it yet another instance, albeit profoundly greater in scope, of the persecutions and destructions that have affected the Jewish people from the time of the razing of the two Temples?

Whereas some Jews do not observe days like the 9th of Av or Asara B’Tevet, and therefore Yom HaShoa takes on a significance of its own, those who do acknowledge these other commemorations, are more likely to favor combining disasters, rather than establishing additional days of remembrance. The Tisha B’Av liturgy has been expanded to include elegies describing the Crusades as well as the Holocaust, in effect incorporated additional reminders of subsequent Jewish suffering beyond what took place during the Babylonian and Roman persecutions.

Question: The bar and bat mitzvas in my town have gotten out of control in terms of lavishness. And the content is either non-existent or totally unrelated to Judaism. I want to buck the trend, but I don't have the courage. Can you give me some ideas as well as some strength from Jewish tradition? What should the day really look like, pre-Hollywood-obsessed America?

I believe that a distinction has to be made between the ritual aspect of a Bar or Bat Mitzva and the subsequent celebration. If the religious service at which the celebrant demonstrates his/her familiarity with and commitment to the Jewish people, its traditions and its future, is a meaningful and authentic experience, then the occasion should prove to be a memorable one not only for family and friends, but for the boy or girl him/herself. In order for the role of the child in their Bar/Bat Mitzva service to be significant, it will require substantial preparation, thought and study. While rote recitations are often a centerpiece of such services, they usually do not address the existential questions implied in the moment. Does a Rabbi meet with the child and discuss the significance of coming of age as a Jew? Does the child engage in a Chesed project whereby s/he is not only enamored of the gifts that s/he will receive, but also what s/he can now do on behalf of others not as fortunate? Has the child completed the study of some major work in Jewish tradition to feel a sense of accomplishment to go along with his reaching adolescence, the age of majority? Is there consistency between the avowal of Tora and Mitzvot and the Bar/Bat Mitzva’s family lifestyle? Adolescents in particular pick up on what they perceive as hypocrisy and less than whole-hearted commitment. If they perceive that the ceremony is empty and vapid, not really reflecting the values and heart-felt beliefs of his family and community, chances are that the entire occasion will be easily dismissed or even viewed negatively as sanctimonious and insincere.

Assuming that the Bar/Bat Mitzva ritual ceremony is sincere and inspiring, the party that follows should be complementary, an extension of what took place in the synagogue. The question that those arranging for a party should ask themselves is how can a tasteful and joyous celebration be conducted that rather than standing in opposition to the religious service, commemorates and deepens it? Are there speeches by significant individuals in the Bar/Bat Mitzva’s life, who have led exemplary Jewish lives, and who therefore have earned the right to impart wisdom and goals for the future? Is a sense of the holiness of the occasion maintained, or is it obliterated by merry-making and immodesty? It is difficult to set absolute guidelines when there are so many variables to consider in each individual situation. Perhaps the rule enunciated by King David concerning the members of the Jewish people in Yevamot 79a provides a rule of thumb for not only the individuals themselves, but also the types of celebrations that they organize for themselves, their children, relatives and friends: “There are three characteristics of this nation—They are compassionate, modest and doers of good deeds.” If in the Bar/Bat Mitzva party, the essential qualities of kindness, humility and concern for doing good would be recognized as informing the evening’s program and activities, such celebrations would live up to their Kiddush HaShem potentials.

Traditional Halachic sources (Shir HaShirim 4:1; Brachot 24a; Shulchan Aruch, Orech Chayim 75:2; Ibid. Even HaEzer 21:1) are interpreted to require married Jewish women to cover their hair. As in many other areas of Jewish observance, the letter of the law sometimes stands in opposition to the fulfillment of its spirit. While the letter of the law of covering one’s hair can technically be fulfilled, at least according to some opinions, by even creating a wig out of an individual’s own hair and wearing it uncovered (see e.g., Mishna Berura on Orech Chayim 75, #15), others feel that at the very least, it is improper to give the impression that one is not covering one’s hair even if in fact they are doing so. However, to assume that the purpose of covering one’s hair is to make one unattractive might be missing the point. While a practice that is intended to reflect one’s marital status and convey a sense of personal modesty clearly has positive religious value, this does not mean that the purpose of such a requirement is to make one unattractive. It is possible to reflect a sense of style, taste and even fashion consciousness, even as one complies to the rigors of Jewish law.

Question: My 6 year old asked me how it is we have free choice if God knows everything in advance, and while I'm so proud of him for his advanced thinking, I am embarassed that I don't know the answer! Can you help? What does Judaism say?

The paradox of God’s Omniscience and man’s free choice, as articulated by R. Akiva in Avot 3:15 “All is foreseen and permission, i.e., free choice is granted”, is very difficult to explain logically. If adults who are capable of thinking abstractly have difficulty penetrating such a mystery, I am not optimistic that young children will be able to be given explanations that will make sense to them. Maimonides, the great Jewish thinker and philosopher, expressed the problematic issue as follows: (Mishneh Tora, Laws of Repentance 5:5) “…We (human beings) do not have the ability to comprehend how the Holy One, Blessed Be He “Knows” all creatures and their actions, but we must know without a doubt that the actions of man are in the hands of man, and the Holy One, Blessed Be He does not Pull him or Decrees for him to do a specific thing…”

However, R. Jonathan Sacks, in his weekly Tora commentary Covenant and Conversation, once offered the following analogy: Think of a sporting event that has been videotaped, and is now being watched after the game was completed. The players participating in the match do not know the outcome or what will be happening over the course of the rest of the game; yet the viewer, if he has already learned the final score and heard about some of the out-of-the-ordinary plays, will know ahead of time what is going to transpire. Could it be that God is the viewer of the videotape of our everyday lives, Knowing the choices that we are going to make, not because He Forced us to make them, but simply because He Operates in a different dimension of time than we do? Even if a six-year-old may not comprehend what it might mean to operate within different temporal universes, adults may be able to at least have a sense of what this might mean.

Of course, the child’s question could become the catalyst for a discussion of intellectual humility, and not always expecting an answer for every question. Which way to direct the conversation will have to be left up to the parent to make a free and independent choice.

Question: I see so many things on Facebook status updates and Twitter feeds that seem so improper somehow – why do we all need to know every detail of everyone’s life? But I seem to be alone here. Does Judaism have anything to say about the ethics of privacy? Could this possibly be a “tzniut” issue?

The ethics of privacy from a Jewish perspective regarding electronic media platforms such as Facebook and Twitter involve two different and separate vectors. On the one hand, the responsibility for one has to respect the privacy of another is an important consideration that has been long discussed in various venues by Halachic authorities; on the other, the responsibility of an individual to keep private intimate or potentially compromising aspects of his personal life is an equally important issue addressed by Jewish traditional sources. Current trends to regularly post potentially compromising photographs and express private feelings and activities in extreme detail could overlap both areas—to what extent should one attempt to access and review what others have displayed without obtaining explicit permission, as well as what are the parameters for deciding what to submit for potentially public scrutiny even when granting such permission. Nevertheless, the question that has been presented focuses upon the post-er, “Why do we need to know every detail of everyone’s life?” which we will investigate.

Well-known standards of personal modesty regarding dress and public deportment, such as the formulation of Maimonides in Mishneh Torah, Laws of Personality, Chapt. 5 would obviously summarily preclude not only “in-person” behaviors, but also someone posting pictures of himself engaging in inappropriate activities. Such a prohibition would apply even if there were no potential consequences in terms of one’s candidacy for school acceptance or employment; the fact that admissions officers and human resources administrators have begun to regularly review applicants’ electronic profiles attaches serious consequences to irresponsible postings, and qualify such activities as forms of self-destructive behavior. Shulchan Aruch, Choshen Mishpat 421:12 posits that even if an individual tells another that the latter can harm the former with impunity, we do not believe that the permission was freely given because “it is a known matter that no one wishes such a thing,” and the perpetrator would therefore be ultimately culpable. Extending such a concept to the posting of potentially incriminating material on the Web that will damage his reputation in the eyes of others, a person doing so, even if he claims to be aware that this can do him potential harm, still does not have the ethical right to engage in such behavior. It is possible that at the heart of the Shulchan Aruch’s assumption is not only the biological human instinctual desire for self-preservation, but also the spiritual postulate that all people are created in the Image of God (Genesis 1:27; Ibid. 9:5-6 is cited by some as a prohibition against suicide, i.e., the ultimate act of self-destruction,) transforming personally harmful behavior into an affront to God Himself. (See Rashi on Deuteronomy 21:23 for another example of the identity between human disparagement and a profanation of God’s Holiness.)

Finally, with respect to the postings of personal thoughts and actions that while not compromising or humiliating, are nevertheless trivial and suggesting an inflated sense of self-importance, a person should keep in mind sources exemplified by Mishna Shekalim 3:2 ‘

“…A person needs to consider making a good impression upon other people in the same way that he has to live up to the Expectations of the Divine, as it is said, (Numbers 32:22) “And you will have complied with the expectations of God and of Israel” and it is said (Proverbs 3:4) “And find grace and understanding in the eyes of God and man.”

Before doing or saying something that others will be able to see and hear, one should consider what sort of affect his words and actions might have upon others. Living up to our being Created in God’s Image does not only mean that we have to strive to preserve our physical and spiritual existences, but also to whatever extent possible give rise to the Sanctification of God’s Name. This would suggest that what we do should always be subjected to the scrutiny of the following frame of reference: (Deuteronomy 6:18) “And you will do what is straight and good in the Eyes of God…” Foolish, let alone insignificant, behavior would appear to fall short of this standard.

The premise of this question assumes that Judaism’s rules governing marrying only those who share one’s Jewish religion is somehow a manifestation of racial discrimination. That is certainly contrary to how the pertinent verses in the Torah explain such a perspective:

shalt thou take unto thy son. For he will turn away thy son from following Me, that they may serve other gods…

When the verse stresses the concern that marrying someone who practices a different religion will possibly result in the Jewish individual renouncing his traditions in favor of someone else’s, it becomes clear that the issue under consideration is how best to assure the continuity of one’s religious heritage. If significant value is assigned to preserving a particular set of religious commitments and practices, then such beliefs and activities are obviously best reinforced within a family setting, where parents, children, grandchildren, etc. adhere to rituals and beliefs that have been passed down by the family and the community through the generations. When, however, religion is privatized and individualized rather than carried forward within a familial context, i.e., each person on his own is expected to attempt to support and pass on his/her own religious traditions independent of the practices and beliefs of his/her spouse and extended family, research has supported the conclusion that the odds against such a religion’s cultural and historical survival increase dramatically. Judaism is a social, communal religion, wherein what an individual considers to be his/her rights and privileges are sometimes subsumed to the needs, priorities and values of the greater group. The extent to which someone is prepared to comply with these requirements and make the requisite sacrifices is a function of how devoted s/he is to the preservation and vitality of the religious tradition in question. Consequently, an observant Jew can be very accepting and respectful of all racial and ethnic groups, even as s/he will consider only other Jews as potential spouses.

The death of any close relative plunges one into deep sadness, makes a person wonder how it will be possible to go on, and serves as a stark reminder of our own human fragility and mortality. The loss of a child for whom parents had envisioned so many hopes and dreams over the course of a long life, is without question one of the most devastating experiences to endure and overcome. Due to the inevitable confusion and difficulty to make decisions experienced by someone who has just suffered the loss of a loved one, Jewish tradition offers a structure of rituals and regulations, including a funeral service, that help a mourner first deal with the immediate situation in which s/he finds himself, and then slowly and sensitively reintegrate him/her into the activities of everyday life.

While the emotional trauma that parents who devastatingly experience a miscarriage, a still-born birth or the death of a new-born soon after birth is stark and deeply wrenching, Jewish law, in this, as in so many other areas, strives to delineate at what point do standard, traditional rituals or mourning apply, and conversely when do they not, leading to the necessity of considering alternative approaches and remedies for the situation at hand. One such delineating standard is the demarcation line which determines when full-scale human person-hood has been achieved. This point in human development is reflected in the age requirement applied to the earliest moment when the Pidyon HaBen ritual (redemption of a first-born male) can take place. Numbers 18:16 states “…From a month old shalt thou redeem them…” which in turn is codified in Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah 305:11 “The first born is not susceptible to redemption until thirty days pass (from the moment of his birth)…” From this specific ritual detail is extrapolated that the long-term viability of any new-born is established only once a month passes from the time of his/her birth.

Although the specific ritual aspects of comforting a mourner that a funeral among other practices are intended to effect, may not apply to situations falling outside the standard established in the bible and the codes cited above, this does not mean that those suffering such a loss are not in need of and should not be afforded the benefits of other kindnesses. As Joel Wolowelsky has recently written (The Mind of the Mourner, OU Press, NY, 2010, p. 60), “They (the parents who have suffered this type of loss) have not forfeited their right to the hesed (kindness) that is due a suffering person. They are entitled to the same attention and support, albeit under the rubric of bikkur holim (visiting the sick) and not nihum avelim (comforting the mourners.)

The land of Israel is more pronouncedly dependent upon rainwater for its irrigation and water supply needs than many other countries (see Deuternomy 11:10-12.) There are virtually no bodies of fresh water within Israel’s boundaries and the rainy as opposed to dry seasons are very distinct, with it practically not raining at all during the spring and summer months, leaving the fall and winter months as the period of time when it must rain abundantly in order for there to be a year of even moderate agricultural success.

Jewish primary sources associate rain or the lack thereof with the spiritual level of the Jewish people in general, and the residents of Israel in particular. Mishna Rosh HaShana (1:2) states that Divine Judgments and Decisions are made during the festival of Tabernacles regarding the rainfall that will take place during the ensuing year. The beginning of the rainy season is marked by a special supplicatory prayer (Tefillat Geshem) at the conclusion of the festival of Tabernacles, with the end of the season accompanied by a prayer for dew, to the exclusion of rain, recited on Passover. During the rainy season, an insertion is made in the weekday silent devotion (“VeTein Tal U’Matar LeVeracha;” lit. “and Bestow dew and rain for a blessing,”) repeatedly requesting God to Assure that an adequate amount of rain will fall.

The Israeli Chief Rabbinate presently calling for communal fasting in light of the paucity of rain to date in the land of Israel is in accordance with Mishna Ta’anit (1:5) which states that if it has not significantly rained by the beginning of the month of Kislev (which began this year on November 8, 2010, forty days after the conclusion of the festival of Tabernacles), it is cause for serious concern, and day-time fasts are to be decreed by the religious authorities of the community. Naturally it is understood that fasting is only a means to an end, i.e., when one concentrates less on his material needs, he can more easily turn his thoughts and prayers to spiritual matters. It is assumed that the introspection and soul-searching accompanying a fast will galvanize the population’s spiritual energy to the point where the Jewish people’s prayers will be affirmatively answered and the long-anticipated and much-needed rain will finally fall.

From an Orthodox point of view, the religious status of a child is a function of the religious identity of the child’s mother. Consequently, were one to adopt a child whose biological mother was unquestionably Jewish, then the child is Jewish and nothing further has to be done. If the child being adopted was born to a non-Jewish mother, then a conversion process for the child must be undertaken. If the child is of pre-Bar- or Bat-Mitzva age (13 for a boy; 12 for a girl), then the conversion will be viewed as conditional, since the individual converting must be of mature mind to cause such a change in personal status. Consequently, a reaffirmation of the child’s Jewish identity takes place once s/he reaches the age of maturity, usually in the form of participating in a Bar/Bat Mitzva ceremony.

THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN ANSWERS PROVIDED HEREIN ARE THOSE OF THE INDIVIDUAL JVO PANEL MEMBERS, AND DO NOT
NECESSARILY REFLECT OR REPRESENT THE VIEWS OF THE ORTHODOX, CONSERVATIVE OR REFORM MOVEMENTS, RESPECTIVELY.